CHAPTER 3: SLOW DEATH

The first symptom was the cold.

I lay in the hospital bed, watching Ethan sleep, and felt ice spreading through my body. It started in my arm where Alice had injected the IV port, then crawled up to my shoulder, across my chest, down into my stomach.

I tried pressing the call button. Still dead.

I tried my phone. Gone. Alice must have taken it.

I tried to stand. My legs wouldn't support my weight. I collapsed back onto the bed, gasping, tears streaming down my face.

"Help," I called out, but my voice came out weak and thin. "Someone help me."

No one came.

The hospital corridor outside my room was quiet. It was past midnight now, the dead hours when staff was minimal and patients slept. Alice had chosen her timing perfectly.

My thoughts raced, tripping over each other. Lucas had planned this. My husband, the man I'd loved, the man I'd given everything to, had plotted my murder. How long had he been planning it? Since I got pregnant? Since we got married? Had any of it been real?

Two years with Alice. The words kept echoing in my mind. Two years. I had blamed myself for Lucas's distance, for his cold silences, for the way he looked through me instead of at me. I'd thought I wasn't enough. Wasn't pretty enough, smart enough, interesting enough.

But it wasn't my fault. It had never been my fault.

He'd never loved me at all.

Another wave of cold swept through my body. My teeth started chattering. My heart was beating too fast now, hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest.

I looked at Ethan. He slept peacefully, his tiny face relaxed, his hands curled into fists by his head. He didn't know his mother was dying three feet away. He didn't know his father was a monster.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "I'm so sorry, baby. I wanted to give you everything. I wanted to be your mama. I wanted to watch you grow up."

My vision started to blur. Not from tears this time. From whatever poison Alice had given me.

The door opened.

My heart leaped with desperate hope. Someone had found me. Someone would help.

But it was Lucas who stepped into the room.

He looked the same as always. Expensive suit, perfect hair, handsome face that gave nothing away. He closed the door behind him and stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at me like I was a problem he was solving.

"Lucas," I gasped. "Help me. Alice... she poisoned me. Please. Call the doctor."

My husband walked closer. His footsteps were measured, unhurried. When he reached my bedside, he looked down at me with those flat, emotionless eyes.

"I know," he said simply.

The hope died. I felt it extinguish inside my chest like a candle flame.

"You know?" I repeated numbly.

"Of course I know. I planned it." Lucas pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing his legs casually. "Alice and I have been working on this for months. We needed to wait until after the baby was born. I need an heir for the company. But I don't need you."

My body was shaking now, violent tremors I couldn't control. "Why? If you didn't want to be married, you could have divorced me..."

"Divorce is messy. Expensive. My father would cut me off if I divorced you within the first five years of marriage. The prenup was very clear." Lucas leaned back in his chair. "This way is cleaner. You die from postpartum complications. I'm the tragic widower. I inherit your trust fund. And in a respectable amount of time, I marry Alice."

"My trust fund?"

Lucas smiled, and it was the cruelest thing I'd ever seen. "Did you really think I married you for love? Your father's company merged with mine. Your trust fund is worth fifty million dollars, which becomes mine when you die. The baby secures my inheritance from my own father. It's all very neat."

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"I'm practical." Lucas checked his watch. "Alice said you have about three hours. Maybe four. The poison mimics cardiac arrest. No one will question it. These things happen sometimes after childbirth."

I tried to speak, but my tongue felt thick and heavy. The cold was in my bones now, in my lungs. Each breath was harder than the last.

"Ethan," I managed. "Don't hurt him."

"Hurt him? He's my son. My heir." Lucas glanced at the sleeping baby with something that might have been pride. "He'll have everything. The best schools, the best life. He just won't have you."

"He needs his mother..."

"He'll have Alice. She's excited about being a mother. She's already picked out nursery colors for the penthouse." Lucas stood, straightening his suit jacket. "I should go. It would look suspicious if I were here when you die. I'll be in the hotel across the street. Alice will call me when it's done."

He walked to the door, and I felt panic overwhelming the poison fog in my mind.

"Lucas, please," I begged, hating myself for begging, unable to stop. "Please don't do this. I'll give you the divorce. I'll sign anything. Just let me live. Let me see my son grow up. Please."

My husband paused with his hand on the door handle. For one moment, I thought I saw something human flicker across his face. Regret, maybe. Or guilt.

Then it was gone.

"Goodbye, Rachel," he said. "For what it's worth, you were a decent wife. You just weren't worth more than fifty million dollars."

He left.

I heard his footsteps fade down the hallway. Heard the elevator ding. Heard the sound of my world ending.

The cold was unbearable now. My heart was racing and stuttering at the same time, like it couldn't decide whether to beat too fast or stop completely. My lungs burned with each breath. My vision was darkening at the edges.

I thought about screaming. But what good would it do? Lucas had probably paid off the night staff. Probably made sure no one would check on me until it was too late.

I was going to die in this hospital room, alone, while my baby slept three feet away.

Ethan stirred in his bassinet. He made a small, mewling sound, not quite a cry, just the sound of a baby dreaming. My heart shattered.

"I love you," I whispered to him, tears streaming down my cold face. "I love you so much, Ethan. I'm sorry I can't stay. I'm sorry I can't protect you. I'm sorry your father is a monster and I didn't see it until it was too late."

My vision was almost gone now. The room was fading to black. My heart was slowing, each beat weaker than the last.

My last thought before the darkness took me was a prayer. Not to God. I'd stopped believing in God three years ago when I married Lucas. This prayer was to the universe, to fate, to whatever force controlled life and death.

Let me come back. Let me have another chance. Let me protect my son. Let me make them pay for what they've done.

Then the cold swallowed me whole, and I died believing I would never wake up again.